"What do you do?" Shifting our small talk

In the United States, our small talk is very direct.  After asking someone’s name and maybe where they are from, the next question is usually, “What do you do?”

In a culture that defines a person’s worth by their productivity, it can feel very vulnerable to say you don't have a 9-5 job.  This subject can feel especially raw for people with newly acquired disabilities that precipitated a career change or an early retirement.  

Even for the traditionally employed, this question can be daunting.  Brené Brown, who researches the human condition, wrote about this in her book The Gifts of Imperfection:  “Most of us have complicated answers to this question.  For example, I’m a mom, partner, researcher, writer, storyteller, sister, friend, daughter, and teacher.  All of these things make up who I am, so I never know how to answer that question” (page 114).  While the roles I fill are different than hers, I can still think of a long list of words to describe myself, most of which aren’t career related.

No matter our state of life, the question “What do you do?” can tempt us to oversimplify our self-worth.  To this predicament, I offer three solutions to help us begin to value ourselves differently.

The Power of Praise: Research-based ways to Encourage and Empower

Sometimes, I fail.  I don't finish my daily to-do list.  I overcook dinner.  My words fall flat, or worse, hurt someone’s feelings.  Too often, my response to myself is harsh:  I’m lazy, I am not a good cook, I’m a bad communicator.  My failures define me.

Conversely, when I succeed, I own a success as if it is a part of me.  I am a great planner, a gourmet cook, the next Madeleine L’Engle.

Praising and criticizing myself for my innate abilities can create the illusion that my successes and my failures define me and determine my worth.  That’s a lot of pressure!  Also, I am reinforcing the idea that my successes and failures are due to innate abilities, which are difficult to change. 

The good news is that our dignity is inherent, no matter how talented we are (or aren’t).  And we do have the power to try again if we want to.  So how can we use our words to remind ourselves—and others—that our successes and failures do not define us?  How can we use our words to encourage each other to keep trying even when things don’t work out the way we hope?

Stop Striving and Start Thriving (with feeding resources for families and SLPs)

Stop Striving and Start Thriving (with feeding resources for families and SLPs)

It’s easy to believe that if you provide the perfect care for your family, you can raise kids who never get sick, have genius IQs, perfect skin, perfect behavior, and amazing athletic abilities.  But is all of this optimization actually best for the children in our care?  I have seen too many parents in tears because they feel they are somehow failing to provide their children the “optimal” experience.  But what if what’s praised as “best” by society isn’t actually the best option for everyone?  What if by working so hard to meet a perceived societal standard, we are actually distracting ourselves from the ways we can thrive in our own unique situations?  And what if to thrive, we have to let go of control and allow ourselves to rely on tools, resources, and others’ helping hands?  

If you feel insufficient, it’s because we are all insufficient.  God doesn’t expect us to do everything on our own, or even to do everything an exact specific predetermined way.  He asks us to rely on His help, often offered through others, and sometimes using surprising resources.  And there are some decisions with neither a right nor a wrong answer.  What matters isn’t that your life looks optimal or perfect.  What matters is that you can find ways to thrive in whatever situation you are in.

To consider the many kinds of resources and choices God provides for us, let’s take a closer look at feeding kids. 

This is Who I Am: an interview with my friend Sydney

"This is Who I am and That's How it's Gonna Be”

An interview with my friend Sydney

My friend Sydney always has something helpful to say when I most need to hear it.  Sydney and I met as coworkers at a pediatric clinic.  The more time I spent with her, the more I learned about her courage and positivity.  Sydney is athletic, courageous, funny, and charming.  She is a great movie buddy—we love watching movies like Wonder Woman and Star Wars together.  Sydney is also very open about her experiences growing up with and living with an intellectual disability.  The other day, I invited her to share some tea and popcorn at my place so she could tell her story.

Finding freedom in a disability: Katherine Wolf

"I realized very clearly that happiness has nothing to do with the material things which surround us; it dwells in the very depths of the soul. One can be just as happy in a gloomy prison as in a palace." ~St. Therese of Lisieux, Story of a Soul

Sometimes I become frustrated when I find myself limited. I can't get enough things done during the day. I sleep for too long. I talk too much and can't get at what I'm trying to say. My weaknesses seem to bind me, to steal my happiness.

My instinct is to fight. I want to overcome my limitations. There I go, pulling chains behind me as if I could outrun them.

Communicating when it isn't easy

Communication is connection. For most of us, it's easy. A sideways glance. Hands on hips, feet tapping. A kiss on the cheek.

Sometimes, we use words. "Did you see that?" "Please take out the garbage." "I love you." Like magic, the words we conjure in our brains turn into sound waves, travel through the air, and become words summoned in the brain of another.  The written word is equally mysterious. Arbitrary shapes become stories, poems, proverbs. You are reading my words now, somewhere far from the tapping of my keyboard.

So what happens when there is an interruption to the brain? Imagine a blindfold, cotton in your ears, marbles in your mouth. Not so easy now.

Welcome

Hello, and welcome to a place where words nourish even more than bread and every day we do the best we can—even when that means making mistakes and falling flat on our faces.